Her fingers felt like worn leather when Anna shook them. “The next time I see you, you’ll be as free as I am.”
The elderly woman kissed her cheek. “And I’ll be praisin’ the Lord.”
Marie stepped up and held Peter out to her for the last time. “I couldn’t make him stop crying,” she said, her own face as teary as her son’s.
Anna reached for him and clutched him to her chest. “It’s not your fault.”
“I near killed him.”
“This is a hard journey for everyone, Marie, but it’s especially hard for you.” When she kissed the soft hair on Peter’s head, he brushed his fingers across her nose. This time it was really good-bye.
With Peter in her left arm, she embraced Marie with her right arm. “You and Peter are going to be fine.”
“You be prayin’ for us?” Marie asked.
“Every day.”
In the candlelight, Anna watched the fear in Marie’s eyes melt away. “I ain’t scared no more.”
Anna kissed Peter’s cheek one last time. Then she slowly released her grasp on the child as she gave him back to his mother.
“Go with God,” she whispered as her friends turned away.
Their forms faded into the oaks and evergreens like leaves blowing away in the autumn winds. Even the candlelight was engulfed by the darkness.
She reached down and lifted a stack of blankets off the ground, but she dropped them. The Spirit was nudging her to pray. Right now. And so she did, entreating God to protect Peter and whisk him away to safety before the first snow.
For ten minutes she prayed, until the cold settled on her. Something moved in the brush beside her, and she knew she couldn’t linger.
She didn’t want to meet an animal or another person on this remote trail, especially a person asking questions.
She lifted several blankets off the ground and dumped them back in the wagon.
Her friends would go to the Sutters’ home, and she would deliver the blankets to Jacob Sutter’s store in Connersville. Then she would go home and wait for the next knock on her door.
Chapter Ten
The apple trees along the road to Liberty swelled with bright reds and greens. The crisp air nipped the tip of Anna’s nose, and she tugged her shawl closer to her face. When she rounded the edge of the orchard, a marsh robin dipped in front of her carriage and serenaded her with such a sweet tune that she couldn’t imagine hearing a prettier song.
She loved the sounds and beauty of Indiana’s hills and wilderness, though some days she missed the bustle of college life. It had been four months since she’d completed her degree in English—one of the few women to receive a gentleman’s education from Oberlin College—and returned home to help her father with their Underground station. When she was in Richmond, her boardinghouse had been in a constant state of activity, but she’d thrived in the busyness of her studies and long conversations with friends. She didn’t know what she would do if Charlotte weren’t at the house to keep her company each day, working alongside her to manage the housekeeping and cooking for her father and their guests.
Anna’s favorite day of the week was First Day, when she and sixty-one other Friends gathered together at the meetinghouse in Liberty. After the quiet service of reflection, she and Charlotte and her father often stayed in town and spent the afternoon visiting.
Today wasn’t First Day, but Esther Cooley had sent a messenger with her promised invitation for a tea, and Anna had responded that she would come. She told herself that it was a business call to discuss a baby blanket woven at the mill, but she was rather excited about the opportunity to visit, even if her host was a worldly woman instead of a Quaker.
Ever since she had taken Marie and Peter and the others to the Sutter home last week, she had flitted around the house, trying to stay busy with her writing and cooking and mending, but she couldn’t stop wondering if they had made it safely to the next station...and the next. When the Liberty Era arrived on Seventh Day, she skimmed its contents in minutes but found no mention of runaways who had been caught north of Connersville. She comforted herself with the lack of news about their flight.
She checked the address on the invitation and turned onto High Street. Most of the houses on this road were brick, but the Cooleys’ large white home shone like a centerpiece made of flowers and ribbon.
She exited the carriage and handed the reins to the Cooleys’ hired man, who assured her that he would feed her horses before she journeyed back to the mill. To people like the Cooleys, Silver Creek probably seemed as far away as Cincinnati.
She lifted the hem of her silk skirt, the light copper color the same as a mother robin’s breast. On days like this Anna almost felt as if she could fly and sing like the birds in the marsh, but she smoothed her skirt and walked toward the staircase that led to the veranda. She wore this silk dress only for special occasions, and as often as she was invited to someone’s house for tea, today was a very special occasion.
The front bell rang at the twist of her fingers, and a housekeeper opened the door. The woman was tall and pretty with thick hair braided on top of her head. She motioned for Anna to come inside, and something about the way she smiled reminded her of Marie. Perhaps Marie would grow up to be an elegant housekeeper in a stately Canadian home. Or she might be the mistress of the house.
The woman introduced herself as Greta and said, “Mrs. Cooley will be down in a few minutes.”
“Thank you.”
Greta opened the French doors beside her. “You can wait in the parlor, if you’d like.”
Anna stepped through the doors and inhaled the aroma of nutmeg. She eyed the couch but was too mesmerized by the beauty of the room to sit down.
The walls were painted mauve. Instead of plain wainscoting, the paneling was decorated with white plaster ribbons. The golden frames on the wall glistened in the sunlight, and to her right was a large hutch filled with porcelain figurines and pieces of china.
Her gaze passed over the figurines and froze when she saw the shiny black piano in the corner of the room. She stepped across the carpet, and, without thinking, she opened the top and slid her fingers over the cold keys. For a moment, she longed to hear the music.
The bright paint and paintings and piano might be worldly, but standing in this room alone, all she saw was beauty.
Closing her eyes, Anna fought against the jealousy that seemed to spring up from within her. Elaborate decor and fancy dress only masked the true state of a person’s heart and soul. Simplicity and equality were cornerstones of her faith. Her life. If she put on airs, her Southern guests would never feel comfortable in her home.
True beauty was on the faces of the people who had visited her. And it was everywhere around her, the Spirit revealing Himself in nature.
She enjoyed looking at pretty things, but she was content with the plainness—and the simplicity—of her life.
Anna heard the whoosh of skirts, and she opened her eyes to watch her hostess glide into the room. Esther was dressed in a pale pink dress with a large satin bow on the front and a silver heart-shaped locket around her neck. The woman’s cheeks seemed to be glowing in the sunlight, her eyes were soft and clear. Pregnancy was obviously agreeing with her.
Esther smiled at her with joy. “Do you play?”
Her hand recoiled from the piano keys. “No.”
“I wish you did.” Esther sighed softly. “My baby girl loves music, but I can barely play these days.”
Anna hid both her hands behind her back and turned from the piano. “How do you know she likes music?”
“She starts dancing whenever she hears the slightest tune.” Esther sat on a padded chair and brushed her fingers over her skirt. “I can almost hear her singing, too, a beautiful song about life and love and happiness.”
Anna couldn’t help but smile back. “It seems that her mother is quite happy.”
“I’m horrible, aren’t I?” Esther’s smile diminished with another sigh. “I gush a
nd gush like there’s never been a baby born in Liberty. It’s completely improper, I know, but I can’t seem to help myself.”
Esther motioned to the chair beside her, and Anna tucked her dress under her as she sat down. “You should be happy about your child.”
“I’m ecstatic,” Esther’s lower lip twitched, “though few people can understand why I’m so excited.”
Esther’s shoulders shook lightly when she turned her head. Her voice was hushed, but Anna still heard her next words. “I’ve waited so long....”
Anna’s hands twitched in her lap as silence filled the room. She wanted to reach out and comfort this woman, yet she didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. So she waited.
Esther didn’t speak again until the door beside the piano opened. Greta entered with a silver tray that glistened as she crossed through the rays of sunlight.
“Thank you,” Esther said simply, her lips pinched into a tight smile. She lifted the bright blue porcelain teapot garnished with gold and poured black tea into Anna’s cup. Steam wafted out of it, and Anna smelled a hint of jasmine. She dropped a sugar cube into the hot drink and stirred.
Esther tapped on the side of her cup as she sipped it. Anna felt the woman eyeing her, like she was trying to decide if she would be a close friend or a mere acquaintance.
“Come here.” Esther set her cup down and reached for Anna’s hand. “You can feel her dancing.”
Anna warily placed her fingers across Esther’s swollen belly. “I don’t feel anything.”
The baby gave a swift kick, and Anna jumped. A giggle escaped her mouth, and Esther laughed beside her. The baby’s toes and hands danced across Esther’s skin, and Anna marveled at the beautiful signs of creation.
She lifted her hand and put it back into her lap. Bitterness swelled inside her again, and she finally recognized it for the sin that it was.
She, with her heritage of Quaker plainness and propriety, was jealous of Esther Cooley’s fine china and lacy curtains and piano. And most of all, she was jealous because Esther Cooley had a baby dancing and singing inside her, and Anna could never even dream about having a child of her own.
Her work on the Underground was worth the cost, yet the thought of holding a baby like Peter or Esther’s little girl was like dumping salt into an open wound. Her desires might always sting, even if just a bit.
Esther wrapped her slender fingers around her teacup and lifted it to her lips. Her belly still moved, but she wasn’t watching it anymore. “It’s marvelous, isn’t it?”
Anna nodded, her eyes wandering toward the window, to the natural beauty and warmth of God’s light. “A miracle.”
“A miracle,” Esther repeated, gazing out the window like Anna. She seemed to catch herself and looked back at Anna. “How about you, Anna Brent? Will you ever marry and have babies?”
Anna balanced her tea with both hands. She didn’t want to talk about her future with anyone, especially someone like Esther Cooley. She was glad to come here and have tea with this woman and even admire her pretty things, but she would never confide in her. “I don’t think I will ever marry.”
Esther leaned closer. “Surely there is a young man in Liberty that has caught your eye.”
The only man who had caught her eye hadn’t caught her heart. And he would never catch it. Matthew may be winsome, but he wasn’t for her. In the stolen moments that she allowed herself to imagine the type of man she’d like to marry, Matthew wasn’t even a consideration. She wanted a man of passion. A man of dedication to God and to the abolition of slavery. That was part of the reason she would never marry. She wanted a hero as well as a husband.
Esther’s nose was inches away from hers. “There is someone, isn’t there?”
Anna moved back and glanced down at the teapot, admiring its gold ribbing, the white flowers painted on the blue sides. Esther had asked her to come to discuss the blanket for her child, not Anna’s future. She lifted her teacup again. “Where did you get this tea?”
“From England,” Esther responded quickly, and then she grinned. Before she spoke, she fed another lump of sugar into her cup. “Someday I shall introduce you to my brother. He swears that he will never marry either.”
Anna didn’t want to talk about marriage or babies or Esther’s brother. “Some people are not meant to marry.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Sometimes circumstances are such that marriage is not appropriate.” Her protest was weak, but she wasn’t going to discuss specifics. It shouldn’t matter to Esther in the least if she did or did not plan to marry one day.
“Two people can be smitten by love even in the direst of situations.”
“Did you meet your husband under dire circumstances?”
“Oh, no.” Esther’s laugh sounded light again. “We met in Ohio. He was a colleague of my father’s at the Cincinnati hospital, and my father decided to bring him home.”
“And you were smitten?”
“Immediately.”
Anna didn’t want to think about falling in love, but her mind wandered. Like Esther and Joseph, her parents had loved each other from the first time they’d met on a plantation in North Carolina, more than thirty years ago. Her mother once told her that it was as if God Himself had brought them together. They moved north to Indiana weeks after they married.
Esther glanced back at the piano. “Do you want me to teach you a song or two?”
Anna shook her head. “We’re not allowed to play the piano.”
“Oh, I know all about your rules,” Esther said. “My mother’s parents were Quakers.”
“And your mother?”
“Decided to marry a Presbyterian.”
“She couldn’t convince him to join?”
Esther shook her head. “My grandparents were devastated.”
“I can imagine.”
Esther unclasped the silver locket from around her neck and held it out for Anna to see. A vine had been engraved into the silver. “When we left home, my grandmother gave both my brother and me a locket.”
“It’s beautiful.”
Esther traced the vine with her fingers. “It’s supposed to remind us of our Quaker heritage and of all the people we love today.”
“Why don’t you and Joseph join our Meeting?”
“I’d never make a good Quaker. I love to sing and dance and read....”
“We’re allowed to read,” Anna interjected. Not only was this woman questioning her future, now she was questioning her faith.
“Not Godey’s Lady’s Book.”
“We don’t seek out worldly pleasures,” Anna tried to explain. “Not because we don’t enjoy God’s blessings, but because we’re devoted to protecting our hearts and minds—like Jesus when He rejected Satan’s temptations in the wilderness.”
A long pause settled in the room before Esther spoke again. “Surely you have something to entertain you during the long winter evenings.”
“I like to write,” she replied, and then wished she hadn’t. She didn’t have to defend her faith to this woman or tell her that more than anything she liked to lose herself in words. Her desk, with its pen and fine paper, was her favorite place to be.
But it was too late. Esther’s eyes had a fresh spark in them. “What do you write?”
Anna hesitated this time. “All sorts of things.”
“Poetry?”
“A little.”
“Oh, good.” Esther clapped. “Next time you come visit, you will have to bring your poems for me to read.”
“I don’t think...”
“Nonsense,” Esther said. “I love poetry almost as much as I love music.”
Anna lifted her cup to her lips, embarrassed at the thought of Esther reading her private stash of poetry. Yet another part of her wasn’t embarrassed at all. Someplace deep inside her, she was pleased that someone wanted to read her work.
The pride in her heart was as stalwart as the rock walls of Liberty’s jail. Perhaps the onl
y way to humble herself was to let Esther pore over her poetry and critique it. She was certain Esther would help keep her pride at bay.
“You will bring your writings to me, won’t you?” Esther insisted. Anna studied the way the sun reflected off the gold rim of the cup in her hands. “Next time I come,” she promised.
A Quakeress never broke her word.
Chapter Eleven
With his ink-stained fingers, Daniel dropped the last three letters for the page into the composing stick and positioned the stick on the galley tray. The rapidly fading light cast shadows across the counter and tray, but he didn’t stop to light a lantern. The lamp’s reservoir needed to be refilled, and he didn’t want to bother with the funnel and oil until the entire tray had been compiled and was waiting for him on the press.
The paper was due to local subscribers by daylight. Printing it would take most of the night, but he had assured Isaac that it would be done by morning. In nine hours, he would hand off the finished stacks of the paper to a team of schoolboys who would then deliver it across the county and to the residents of Liberty.
He may be late in setting the type, but he wouldn’t miss the deadline. When the first rays of morning shone through the window, he would be surrounded by stacks of newspapers.
The brayer in hand, he rolled ink across the tray and then placed a long piece of paper over the ink. With a wooden hammer and a block of wood, he pounded the paper over the type and created the proof so he could check for errors before he made a thousand copies on the press.
He wiped his smudged glasses on his coat and began to review the draft of his newspaper. In the last week, apples had begun ripening in the orchards around Liberty, the furniture store had received a load of coffins, and Union County farmers were preparing for the annual Battle of the Bang Boards. Hardly the pressing news he’d envisioned when Isaac had asked him to take the position of editor.
Yesterday he finished his editorial about slavery, a full column on the destruction that would ensue if the president signed the Fugitive Slave Act. Congress had somehow approved the blood-soaked piece of legislature and was now waiting for Millard Fillmore to either sign it or veto the bill that would punish anyone who helped slaves go North.
Love Finds You in Liberty, Indiana Page 8